


The Language of Flowers

by SyntacticSugar



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angels, Demons, Established Relationship, First Time (on Earth), Flower of White, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyntacticSugar/pseuds/SyntacticSugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started in Africa. Fiore was found staring at a patch of blue violets, where half had been stomped to death.</p>
<p>Reaching down he plucked one of the flattened ones, pealing it up from the ground and DeBlanc found it looking somehow pristine when he was presented with it.</p>
<p>“What’s this for?” He asked Fiore, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a clear response - knowing Fiore was still learning how to form English words in his new human body. “No waste.” He jumbled out and DeBlanc softened knowing what he meant.</p>
<p>He didn’t want it to go to waste; this flower influenced ever so slightly by Fiore’s ‘architecture’.</p>
<p>“Thank you my dear.” DeBlanc answered. Fiore made a contented sound. “Can you place it in the trunk?” Not yet knowing what to do with the gift given, Fiore could find a home for it. Maybe next to his comics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

It started in Africa. Fiore was found staring at a patch of blue violets, where half had been stomped to death.

Reaching down he plucked one of the flattened ones, pealing it up from the ground and DeBlanc found it looking somehow pristine when he was presented with it.

“What’s this for?” He asked Fiore, knowing that he wasn’t going to get a clear response - knowing Fiore was still learning how to form English words in his new human body. “No waste.” He jumbled out and DeBlanc softened knowing what he meant.

He didn’t want it to go to waste; this flower influenced ever so slightly by Fiore’s ‘architecture’.

“Thank you my dear.” DeBlanc answered. Fiore made a contented sound. “Can you place it in the trunk?” Not yet knowing what to do with the gift given, Fiore could find a home for it. Maybe next to his comics.

~*~

In Russia, DeBlanc saw Fiore loitering outside of a flower shop. He was wondering what caught his eye when Fiore rushed a block ahead to see if it was open.

DeBlanc bought them layers and bundles and caps and DeBlanc would be concerned that the Angel swaying slightly was being lost to hypothermia - if it wasn’t a flower shop that caught his attention.

“Go on.” DeBlanc says, shooing Fiore inside, “It’s probably warmer inside.”

Once in the shop, Fiore slowly walked around, taking in the selection. The lady of the shop looked on and DeBlanc didn’t pay her any attention when he knew he could gaze upon the sweet one combing through the selection.

Fiore came up with one singular flower and shoved it at DeBlanc with either a blush or a windburn on his face. Either way, the flower he picked was beautiful, a red and white rose, mixed as if it was painted. The lady of the shop made some motion with her hands that neither comprehended before sliding her the piece of paper that made her smile and disregard them.

“Here.” Fiore took it from DeBlanc, snapping the rose stem so cleanly it was as if it’s atoms separated from Fiore’s will alone. Shortened, it was able to fit snugly in DeBlanc’s coat.

~*~

In California, they were closest they’ve been to Genesis since landing on Earth. Of course, they were too late, but they could feel it still near. The excitement of the media and onlookers from the sudden explosion of a celebrity must have peaked its interest. Enough for them to get close enough to feel. Restless. Yearning. Then gone.

DeBlanc tried not to take it hard, but they should be back; back hiding, Genesis in its domicile, all of them together and safe. They were not safe here on this plane of existence. Fiore was adjusting better to earth and DeBlanc hated it. Fiore should not have to be changed by Earth, and to all ends - never - Hell below. He should be as he was above.

Though DeBlanc did find comfort from Fiore’s human form, towering above him he felt unnaturally safe, and when he reached out his hand to Fiore, the strong interlocking of there hands helped settle his weary mind.

Until of course, later, when Fiore went missing after DeBlanc must have drifted off to sleep at the hotel. Then it was full blown panic.

Last he remembered, they were trying to parse out Genesis’ next location and Fiore was mimicking the TV - something about an alien doctor - when he drifted off soaking up the warmth of the body next to him, with its chest rumbling in breathy whispers of nonsensical verbiage.

DeBlanc wanted to run the streets, and pound down doors but had no idea where to look. Fiore would be fine, he tried reasoning, maybe saw a comic book shop that DeBlanc didn’t notice and snuck off not thinking of the possible danger. Sure, the humans were mostly harmless, with them being able to reinvigorate. But the fear of them keeping Fiore ‘mostly’ alive or a Seraphim finding him buried in a comic, kept him on edge.

So when there was a knock at the door, sounding like its owner didn’t realize how much pressure to use in completing the task; DeBlanc jumped and could feel his human heart pounding. Unsure if it was in fear for Fiore or hope that this was his returning.

What he saw first however was a bundle of red poppys and black-eyed susans and its owner looking pleased with himself. Which made DeBlanc livid. Risking his life - for flowers!

If he wasn’t so worried he would have slammed the door on his partner. Instead he held it open, then slammed it and promptly hid in the bathroom. His body shaking, he tried to make it stop and so he laid down on the cold tile floor.

Fiore was heard through the door. “You slept. I wanted to do something - for you. It was close.” Fiore got some of the highs and lows of words wrong but DeBlanc understood and tried to understand Fiore’s intentions.

He yelled “Give me a minute.” to keep Fiore from worrying himself and tried to think of the mission. The goal. Genesis.

DeBlanc opened the door with Fiore looking as despondent as he felt, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Sorry.” Fiore croaked out; this would get them no where DeBlanc tried reasoning, them pulling themselves into a self feeding loop.

“It’s alright.” DeBlanc walked over and positioned himself between Fiore’s thighs so he could pull him close into a hug. Breathing in his scent which was tinged with the flowers, he continued “I was just worried. It was the first time, in a long time, that we were apart and I was worried.”

Fiore nodded, rubbing his cheek against DeBlanc’s temple. They stayed like that for a while, breathing together, before DeBlanc finally separated and glanced at the item that caused this situation.

Grabbing the bundle of flowers, DeBlanc mentioned “they do look nice” before trying to smell what he only got a hint of on Fiore.

As soon as he thought he smelled them.

He sneezed.

~*~

In Texas, they were in for the long haul. It didn’t make sense why this human preacher could handle Genesis when no other human form could. They went on the hunch when the Annville paper stated that the church was in disarray and its preacher was unconscious for two days so far, asking what would happen if they didn’t have a preacher for Sunday Mass.

But here the preacher was, a few days later dunking people in water for some bizzare reason - to cool them? Texas was hot after all.

It didn’t matter. They were so close now. “We’re getting back Genesis.” DeBlanc stated to Fiore, resolute. “We’ll watch some more and go in tonight and get him out of that preacher.”

Fiore nodded, “I’m ready.”

DeBlanc snorted at that; “You just want to use that chainsaw. I should have never let you watch that Evil Dead marathon.”

Fiore was flustered when he responded, “No! It’s just.” He huffed, trying to find the words. “Genesis left the last vessels in pieces. I want to help.”

DeBlanc still held to the humor and responded definitively. “You won’t have to, we can leave the preacher alive. I’ll sing and it’ll leave. Genesis will come back to us.”

Fiore looked at DeBlanc for a long time before asking, “Can we stop on the way back?”

~*~

At the flower shop, of course. It was almost as bad as the comic book shops. Only, DeBlanc was starting to wonder why Fiore kept giving him flowers. Never for himself, and after a day in view DeBlanc let Fiore “put them somewhere for later”. Whatever that meant.

Marching into the flower shop Fiore made a beeline for the Tulips, picking a yellow one from a bucket and paying for it himself. DeBlanc figured another day or two and he wouldn’t mumble over words as much, though him speaking with the maid this morning made DeBlanc question his timeline.

This time Fiore kept he flower in hand until they got back to the car and only then did he give it to DeBlanc. He looked reverent and it made DeBlanc speechless. He was undeserving of such a look and instead of acknowledging it, started the car and sneakily grabbed Fiore’s hand to hold the whole way back to the room.

~*~

After the hell night, of being killed by some creature living in the church protecting the vessel, they laid next to each other trying to sleep in the heat and the darkness that was each in there own way stifling.

Both were disappointed in what had happened. So sure that one of the two options would return Genesis to them and they could be done with the chase and the rebellion.

It was then, in this encroaching darkness, when Fiore, spoke clear as day. “They all have meaning you know. I’ve pressed them under the weight of everything in the trunk. Between the comics.”

DeBlanc was instantly confused, feeling his forehead wrinkle before his brain clicked - the flowers. His eyes widened and his brain was racing. Meaning. The flowers had meaning?!

DeBlanc felt Fiore rub his cheekbone on his shoulder before a light snore brightened the room.

DeBlanc would be taking a detour to the library; something to do while they waited to strike again in the night. He wasn’t as tense as he had been just moments ago.

The flowers had meaning! and Genesis, all things considered was content to stay in the vessel while the preacher seemed to have its own caretaker or protector to fend off a Seraphim or demon. They would try again tomorrow and that will be the day they reunite.

~*~

DeBlanc left Fiore at a table in the back at the library, with comics that would STAY at the library - as DeBlanc knew the trunk was getting heavy enough they both would start to struggle to pull it.

The computers seemed a bit overwhelming and said something about having a card, which DeBlanc was sure he could get or steal… or he could look on the shelves.

Book it was. It took time, but he found what he thought he was looking for: “What the Victorians Knew About Flowers: Gift Giving and Flower Meanings”.

DeBlanc leafed the pages and while he thought he remembered the names of the flowers and colors, he realized he didn’t. Not when he was faced with two hundred or so different kinds.

The “steal” option came back into play. He pocketed the book in is jacket and made his way to Fiore.

After another fifteen minutes, after the resolution of the cliffhanger, they went back to the room and DeBlanc could get to work.

It took some convincing but DeBlanc got Fiore to go to the diner two blocks down the street to get them food for lunch. As soon as he walked out the door, DeBlanc dove in the trunk and found the comics and pulling them gently out, found flattened flowers between the issues.

Laying them out and putting the comics back gingerly. He went in order.

Blue Violet. Faithfulness.

Red and White Rose. Unity.

Red Poppies and Black Eyed Susan. Consolation and encouragement.

Yellow Tulip. Hopelessly in love.

DeBlanc instantly wanted Fiore back, concerned he sent him on a fruitless task with just as much risk as the night in California.

The knock on the door, was like a prayer DeBlanc knew would never be answered for him. Unless it’s deliverance was from Fiore.

Who beamed at DeBlanc saying he found burgers and smiled wider when he saw the pressings on the ugly bedsheets.

“I found these on the walk back, Bluebells”, gently providing DeBlanc with them and placing there food on the table near the window.

DeBlanc’s eyes drifted to the book and Fiore just kept smiling and said “Go on.” Which led DeBlanc to walk and scoop the book up. Turning a page before asking.

“How did you know about the flower language?” DeBlanc asked, curiosity peaking.

Fiore set his eyes on DeBlanc , looking as noble and resolute as he knew the Angel to be, “I helped design them; I wanted to know how the humans liked them.”

DeBlanc, knowing Fiore was named well and that he himself equally. Turned the pages looking for the entry, but mind rolling on his own name. Him. A serial killer, possessing humans and wrecking havoc with there only defense being that they “only saw white”.

DeBlanc didn’t feel confident of being within Fiore’s presence let alone gaze and he found the entry.

Constancy and Everlasting Love.

Looking up at Fiore, meeting his gaze, DeBlanc felt on fire. DeBlanc would easily die to protect Fiore. He would live for him as well, ensuring his safety and happiness for as long as he could. Which may be as long as this one night.

But DeBlanc decided to remain hopeful. Tonight they would get back there child and if tonight was there last night on earth DeBlanc wanted to make sure Fiore felt as loved as he himself felt as he got up, walked over, went up on the balls of his feet to meet Fiore’s lips to his own and there food grew cold.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t stop thinking of: Fiore (Flower) being an architect and DeBlanc (of White) a serial killer. Let alone that there names combine to Flower of White. So, this happened…


End file.
